


Life Lesson

by SweatingHerLadyBollocksOff



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Borderline Homoerotic Friendship, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Post-Goolding Inquiry, Sad Malc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-22 07:03:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15576426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweatingHerLadyBollocksOff/pseuds/SweatingHerLadyBollocksOff
Summary: Sam and Malcolm are in the process of moving to the Cotswolds to help Malcolm recover post-Goolding Inquiry. Each installment is preceded by the song that inspired the feelings behind the piece.





	1. Chapter 1 - Hurt Whilst You Can

> _‘When I’m 80 years old, and alone in my chair_ _will I look back at safety and be glad I didn’t care? No! I can hear her screaming “love, break and learn”. What else are you young for? Fuck it. Hurt whilst you can.’ - dodie, ‘Life Lesson’_

Your flight is landing at 4, yeah? I’ve made pasta bake with loads of veg and Jamie’s going to pop by. I know you’ve probably been living on fried food at your mam’s. Don’t forget to eat before your flight. S x

Sorry, I’m fussing. Tell your mam I love her very much and I’ll try to come and see her next time. S x

I like your fussing. I’m at the airport already, I’ve got lunch, don’t fret. Mam loves you too, and so do I. See you at 4-ish, I’ll get a cab home. M

Sam smiled gently to herself, finishing up the pasta and popping it into the fridge for later. Even such a simple reminder of Malcolm’s love for her meant the world after the hellish few months they’d had after the inquiry. Thankfully, and Sam still didn’t really want to think about how, Malcolm had avoided a jail sentence, but only by the skin of his teeth. Between herself and Jamie, they’d nursed him through the worst of it – the lasting impact on Malcolm’s wellbeing and sense of self-worth, however, they could do very little about at the moment. Leaving politics behind had been harder than he’d ever imagined, and the press intrusion into their lives certainly didn’t help. Sam, however, was not one to give up. She’d been Malcolm Tucker’s PA for twelve years, for Christ’s sake, it was hardly a career path designed for those that gave up at the first signs of trouble. They’d managed (eventually) to get Malcolm to face up to the idea of the future, and had resolved that they’d move out of London, away from the politics and the press packs. Sam had settled on the Chilterns, partly because she knew the nature and the quiet would do Malcolm good, and partly because the anonymity appealed to her. She’d never loved the limelight, and the weeks and weeks of seeing her own face, her own body and her own outfit choices splashed across the daily newspapers had taken its toll. If they moved quietly, discreetly, then the press would be none the wiser – or at least, as Jamie assured her, if they did find out where they were, he’d “fucking deal with it, lass, don’t you worry.”

In the interim, whilst Sam stayed in London and oversaw the decoration of their new place, not to mention the sorting, organising and moving of the remnants of Malcolm’s years in politics, he’d travelled up to Scotland to stay with his mum for a few months. It had been a struggle to get him to go, to let go even momentarily from the safety-net routine of the constant company of either herself or Jamie. But he’d settled in well, and she’d watched with a small swelling feeling of pride as he’d managed to rediscover himself to some extent and remember what life had been like before Whitehall. The space and distance had been good for her too, in a way. She’d managed to patch things up somewhat with Nicola, though she hadn’t really broached that particular topic with Malcolm yet, and it had been cleansing to start the process of moving out of their old flat into somewhere new. It truly felt like a new start, though Sam was under no illusions that the future to come would most likely not be plain sailing. To be honest, she knew by now that nothing could really be plain sailing with Malcolm, unless it involved him simply watching TV curled under a blanket with cheese on toast. Pretty much everything else involved him battling with his own ego, his class consciousness, his residual social shame at ‘seducing his secretary’, his frustrations and anger built up over years of conflict and back-stabbing… but he was working on it, truly, and that was all Sam could ask for. He always did his best.

***

Sam nearly jumped out of her skin a few hours later at a sharp knock at the door, a familiar rhythm to the way the knuckles rapped against the glass panel rather than the wood to really announce his arrival. “Come the fuck in, or fuck the fuck off!” she called with a laugh, knowing it was Jamie. He opened the door with a boyish grin, stepping in through the doorway before bowing down ostentatiously to ‘present’ Malcolm standing behind him, wrapped up in his long black coat despite the fairly nice weather, armed with a bunch of bright yellow roses to make up for bringing essentially an overgrown, hyperactive toddler home with him. Sam beamed, navigating around Jamie to give Malc a kiss, breathing in the smell of him. “Hey, gorgeous. These are lovely, thank you – unless they’re for Jamie and there’s something you two aren’t telling me?” she teased, adjusting a stray bit of his hair. “Oh, aye, very funny. I wouldn’t let that fucking terrier anywhere near my cock if he was the last fuckable individual on earth” Malcolm snorted, giving Jamie a ‘friendly’ smack on the back of the head to get him to stop pissing about. Jamie grinned mischievously, heading inside and making himself at home, a habit which Sam had had to work surprisingly hard to cultivate. The first few times he’d visited after Sam had moved in, he’d been sheepish and shy, on his best behaviour, but the steady unveiling of Sam’s own mischievous and playful side had soon set him at ease.

Malcolm shook his head affectionately watching Jamie flop onto the sofa, then turned again to Sam, burying his face against her shoulder for a moment. “Missed you, Sammy” he murmured, almost a little shyly, instinctively waiting for the reassurance that his absence hadn’t altered anything, that the comforting constancy of their relationship was still there. “Missed you too, darling” she replied easily, stroking a hand through his hair, holding him close for a moment before pulling back gently, knowing it would do him no good to just stand and think about whatever it was she could tell he was unsure about. A quick shower and a long, quiet cuddle on the sofa with Sam whilst watching shite on telly with Jamie later, and Malcolm was looking much better and much more sure of himself. Sam smiled softly when she looked over and saw Malcolm and Jamie’s feet entangled together on the other end of the sofa, most of Malcolm draped in her lap. “Missed you, old man” Jamie said quietly, smiling at the sight of them both with a rare softness. “Missed you too” Malc grinned, and Sam felt a small pang of both happiness and pain at how much that small exchange meant to them both. They really did just want to be needed, for who they were, rather than what they did.


	2. 2 - Little Darling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Malcolm start clearing out their flat and find a few Polaroid throwbacks. Features 70s gay clubs and homerotic friendship, plus posh Lit student Sam.

> _“Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter_
> 
> _Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here_
> 
> _Here comes the sun_
> 
> _Here comes the sun, and I say_
> 
> _It's all right” – The Beatles_

 

“Malc, can you pass me that grey box, please?” Sam asked, wiping her hand over her face to dry a few beads of sweat. It was the height of the British summer, and for once it was genuinely hot – it hadn’t rained for weeks, which wasn’t making the already rather fraught task of packing everything up in time to move in a fortnights time any easier. Malcolm handed over the heavy box, sighing deeply. He was much too hot, much too bothered, and much too tired for any of this. “We’ll just do this one, love, and then we can have a break” Sam promised gently, seeing his energy starting to flag.

Sam opened the box carefully, not sure what was inside. It had been at the back of her wardrobe for ages, nestled in between shoes that didn’t quite fit and other boxes full of old paperwork. Inside, there were carefully arranged piles of Polaroid photos of varying ages, some from Malcolm’s life and some from hers. “Come and look at these, darling” she hummed gently, picking out a few of her at university. Malcolm smiled, his fingers reaching out to gently touch Sam in the photographs, lingering for a moment. “You’ve always been bloody stunning” he laughed, turning to her and kissing her forehead gently. He started looking through the box himself, laughing with Sam at some photos of them messing around on various holidays and dates. Sam felt him pause over one photo, and stole a sneaky glance without him noticing.

It was a photo of Malcolm and Jamie, inches away from each other’s faces, evidently about to or having just kissed. They were in some kind of nightclub, the neon lights harsh against their skin, but they looked for all the world as if they were the only people there, or at least the only people that mattered. They were grinning at each other, the same mixture of laddish good humour and friendship with undertones of something more that Sam was so used to still seeing from them now. She pretended to busy herself with something else, not want to draw attention to it, since Malcolm wasn’t saying anything, just holding the photo gently and reminiscing…

 

***

_BANG, East London, 1978_

“This place is fucking great. I cannae even remember how we used to get our fix before this place opened” Jamie grinned, catching the eye of a slim, feminine blond guy at the bar. “Not really your type, is he, Jam? Thought you liked a bit of rough, not some Tory-looking little wisp of a thing” Malcolm teased, pinching Jamie’s arse and earning a playful punch to the arm for his efforts. Jamie’s blonde was clearly unimpressed, and turned back towards the bar, drawing a long-suffering sigh from Jamie. “You always fucking cramp my style, Tucker. We’re never going to get any if we keep fucking about” he said mock-seriously, turning to confront Malcolm before bursting into giggles. Malcolm couldn’t help but laugh too, enjoying the way Jamie’s laughter made his face brighten up, feeling the sexual tension that usually bubbled up between them on these nights out re-emerge. “Guess we’d better stop window-shopping and get you home then” Malcolm grinned, leaning in and giving Jamie a rough but heartfelt kiss.

 

***

Malcolm turned to Sam, the photo still in his hand. He looked thoughtful, not necessarily embarrassed, but a little unsure of how she would react. Sam turned back to him, a reassuringly sweet smile on her face. “You should make a collage or something, of the ones from when you were younger. I could make one too, and we could have them in the new house” she suggested. She wanted to reassure Malcolm that it was okay, that she’d guessed, that somehow she’d always known that there was more to Jamie and Malcolm’s youth than they’d told her in their often drunken and hilarious anecdotes. She didn’t mind. More than she didn’t mind, she found it sweet, and more than a little bit hot. Perhaps Malcolm wasn’t _quite_ ready to hear that yet. She didn’t want to spoil the tender memories by admitting how much the idea of Malcolm and Jamie turned her on – but she was sure she’d work it into conversation in the bedroom one day.

Once Malcolm had convinced himself that Sam didn’t mind, he smiled gently, taking one more long look at the photo before tucking it carefully back into the box. “I like the idea of a collage” he admitted, picking up a few more photos of Sam at university. One in particular caught his eye, of Sam curled up in an armchair with a large mug and a book, her long hair falling in gentle waves around her mustard turtleneck. “God, look at you, lass – such a poncey Literature student” he teased, looking back up at her, 12 years older and still just as beautiful. “At least now I’ve got a Scottish bit of rough to keep me grounded” Sam laughed, looking at the photo fondly. She could never have imagined then that in a decades time she’d be right at the heart of Westminster, rather than writing children’s books as she’d always imagined doing. She was grateful though, always immensely grateful, that Malcolm had liked her rather desperate application for the PA position, and hadn’t made her feel silly or inferior when she’d nearly burst into tears multiple times from the stress in the first few months. He’d always had her back, right from the very first day, and she’d supported him likewise. And now here they were, standing together in the middle of their bedroom, casually dressed and deeply in love, looking over the remnants of their younger years. They both had a lot to be grateful for.

Malcolm took Sam’s hand, squeezing it gently as she tidied the photos back away. “Shall we go and watch shite TV and cuddle?” he suggested, seeing she was a little emotional from her reminiscing. Sam nodded, leaning in to get a gentle kiss to the top of her head, smiling up at Malcolm. “Come on then, you big softie.” She laughed, heading off to enjoy her life as it was now, with a greater appreciation of what had gone before.

**Author's Note:**

> Please do comment, review and kudos if you'd like to! The next installment should be along shortly and will be much happier!
> 
> I'm also on Omegle role-playing TTOI (tags: The Thick Of It, Samantha Cassidy/Malcolm Tucker, Malcolm Tucker/Jamie MacDonald etc.) - I'm one of the only people doing it in GMT times so come find me if you want!


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